


A True Gentleman

by libraryv



Category: War and Peace (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libraryv/pseuds/libraryv
Summary: Clara and Dolokhov share an intimate encounter and are almost discovered; she discovers another side of him.





	A True Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an outline of a chapter for "The Revolution of Fyodor Dolokhov."  
> It would fit somewhere after Chapter Seven. Clara and Dolokhov have already met and shared a few encounters - this is where they're both in farther than they realize.  
> I had wanted a chapter where Dolokhov shows another side of himself to Clara - that he is more of a gentleman than she (and everyone else) thinks. I didn't end up using it, but here it is. :)

Clara snuck out the patio doors into the frigid air. She could feel the cold reddening her cheeks and nose, and her satin wrap over her evening gown provided little protection against the sting. 

It was blessed, absolute relief.

She had needed an escape; needed a quiet break from the endless gossip and her own heated, confused thoughts.

She could not force her mind away from Officer Dolokhov. His intensity, his laugh at her boldness, his eyes piercing hers as they argued. His hungry, sweeping kisses. It was like being near bottled lightning, dangerous and dazzling. She had been content to categorize her attraction to him as something physical, something easily understood.

At the opera, though, he had shown another side of himself; a careful restraint, a glimpse into a man who cared for his family, and a respectful interest in her own past.  
Dolokhov was more than he seemed, and her desire for him was changing into something deeper, something she was unable to resist.

Clara turned the corner of the sculpted garden pathway, and there was Dolokhov himself, walking along at an efficient clip, his long black coat undone and flaring behind him, soldier’s boots crunching mercilessly on the gravel.

Dolokhov stopped short; his stormy expression transforming into clear surprise.

“Countess Palecekev!”

He gathered himself quickly; his demeanour relaxing, his face clearing into its typical, predatory calm.

“Is it not unusual for a lady to walk unaccompanied in the dark?”

Clara tilted her head, buying herself time for her rapid heartbeat to subside. 

“Have you not noticed, Officer Dolokhov? I am not really the usual sort.”

He nodded, the green eyes studying her.

“I have noticed.”

His lips curved into a slow smile.

“And thank God you are not.”

It was an entirely inappropriate thing to say, but she bit her cheek against a tidal wave of lust as it swept through her at his look, at his words.

“I have interrupted you.” He made to turn and leave, but Clara reached out.

“No, it is – I am glad of the company.”

He betrayed nothing at this statement, but simply held out his arm, which she took.

They began to walk together, and Clara stole a glance at his profile. He was staring determinedly ahead. 

“You are something of a mystery to me, Officer Dolokhov.”

“Why is that, Countess?”

“Last night at the opera, you were a perfect gentleman.”

“Hmm.”

“You saved me from the ungainly clutches of Petrekoff, you thoughtfully spoke to me in English, and I learned that your manners can be charming, if you wish them to be.”

She saw the corners of his eyes crinkle at this, though he said nothing, still looking ahead as he maneuvered them around another corner.

“My only prior experience of you has been limited to disagreements in alcoves and hallways.”

He looked at her, fixing her with such a heated, knowing expression that she felt slightly weak.

He stopped, and so did she.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Countess, to provide you with only encounters in alcoves and hallways.” he said, taking a step towards her. 

He put a hand on her waist; his touch hesitant. Clara licked her lips.

“I never said I was disappointed.”

The words were shocking; Clara did not care. 

Dolokhov’s eyes flared, and he paced around her, his hand still on her waist, slowly circling as she remained still, under his consuming spell. 

“You are something of a mystery to me as well, Countess.”

She could feel his eyes on her back, hear the sounds his boots made as he prowled slowly around her and faced her again.

“I have never seen such a bold disregard for expectations.”

Clara met the challenge in his gaze.

“Besides your own behaviour?”

He stopped and let out a single, astonished note of laughter. 

“You surprise me every time we meet." He looked at her, curious. "I too have reflected on our conversation; I too have seen a different side of the woman who does not play it safe.”

She smiled.

“It is a good thing I am attracted to a little danger.”

He stepped swiftly until he was standing behind her, his hand had not moved from her body. The other came up and gently lifted long curled tendrils of her hair to the side, exposing her neck to the cold air. 

She leaned back into him, and his grip on her waist tightened. He stepped closer, their bodies flush, and she let the back of her head fall onto his chest. 

Clara felt his breath, hot on her neck, and the brush of his hair as it fell forward and tickled her skin.

“I have dreamt of this very thing,” he murmured, his lips soft against her skin. She closed her eyes, unable to resist anything but the feel of him. His hand on her waist moved lower, onto her hip, then crept slightly forward, steady and warm, until it settled dangerously low, just above the space between her legs.

Her breathing was coming in quick pants, tiny clouds of air being released into the darkness, her chest rising and falling with need for him to touch more of her.

His mouth was exquisite as he kissed the skin of her neckline, his hand hovering torturously over her core, and she had just enough coherent thought to reach behind her and place her hands on his legs, pressing herself against him.

A rumble in his chest, and his hand finally, finally, cupped her core and stroked, and even through her dress the sensation had a moan escape her lips. 

She turned herself around, and they were kissing, one end of her wrap falling to the ground, her hands sweeping over him, his tongue deep and demanding in her mouth. 

“Who is that? There are people down there, and they are certainly keeping warm!”

The voice came from the balcony above them, and Clara and Dolokhov broke apart, the cold air rushing in at them as though waiting.

Dolokhov pulled her with him into the shadows underneath the balcony; both of them breathing hard.

“Petrekoff, there is nobody there.”

“I am telling you, it looked a little like, although I can hardly believe it-“

“You have had too much to drink. Come on, it’s freezing out here.”

The footsteps died away, and Clara glanced up at Dolokhov.

“I seem to be unable to resist you, Officer Dolokhov. I shall have to label you as dangerous to approach, in future.”

His face was in shadow, but she saw his teeth flash in the dark as he answered.

“I commend your bravery that you still dare approach me at all, Countess.”

She took a step away from him and felt the loss keenly. They both began walking back towards the double doors leading back to the party.

She stopped. She could not help the worry that was biting at her, could not help her brain reminding her of Dolokhov’s history with women.

“We should go in separately.” She motioned for him to go in, but he shook his head, his feet planted.

“I agree, but it is painfully cold, and I have kept you out in it long enough. Go in, and I will follow in a few minutes.”

Clara did not argue; without his warmth, she was starting to feel it. She went in without a backwards glance.

XXXXX

Clara was unable to focus on the conversation; all of her energy went to avoiding staring at the long, lean figure of Dolokhov sitting across from her as he laughed and chatted effortlessly.

The talking died down as Petrekoff came towards their corner, and Clara had a sinking feeling as she looked at his triumphant expression.

“Dolokhov, I have been looking for you.”

Dolokhov gave them all a confident smile, his eyes flicking to Clara for a reassuring moment.

“Hardly surprising, Petrekoff. I am always sought after.”

There was an understanding laugh from their group.

Petrekoff scowled, and looked at Clara, who felt panic tingling at her fingertips. He swung his gaze back to Dolokhov.

“I saw you earlier, tonight. Outside. Ruining another lady’s reputation, no doubt. You are up to no good, as always.”

Dolokhov took the blow easily, leaning back on the sofa and spreading his arms. 

“You know me too well. As you say, I am in the business of ruining reputations. Tonight, though, it was at the card table. You are mistaken, Petrekoff – I was not outside.” 

Petrekoff glanced towards Clara, unsure. Natasha saw the glance, and frowned.

Dolokhov stood up quickly, but with a winning smile in Petrekoff’s direction.

“Let us have a drink, and see if you can break my streak of luck.” He threw an arm around Petrekoff, turning them away, and Clara let out a relieved breath.

She watched as Dolokhov walked them away, watched as he gave her a flash of a smile, the understanding sparkle in his eyes at odds with his careful, bored expression.

**Author's Note:**

> I also had this included b/c early on Dolokhov imagines kissing her neck and getting her a bit flustered, and I had always thought it would be fun to give him his daydream come to life. :D


End file.
